


Darkened Hours

by fuckmeifimwrong



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Attempted Murder, Detectives, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Love, M/M, Murder, Non-Explicit Sex, Not That Slow Though, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-26 06:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16676326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckmeifimwrong/pseuds/fuckmeifimwrong
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is a twenty-four-year-old working in a publishing house in Tokyo as an editor. When he is walking home late one night he witnesses a co-worker's brutal murder by a member of a gang led by the dangerous Ushijima Wakatoshi. Oikawa must be put into protective custody by the police. He meets Dectecive Iwaizumi Hajime, who he detests and they must solve the case before Ushijima finds him and kills him.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for showing interest in this fanfic. I had the idea at like three in the morning and instead of doing homeworking I'm doing this. Thanks for the read and leave kudos if you like and feel free to comment!  
> I don't own Haikyuu!! or its characters blah blah blah.  
> Enjoy!

I could've done a lot of things in my life. I could have been an athlete or even a model. I could've gone into medicine like my parents wanted me to, but no. I wanted to be different, I wanted to be successful too. I suppose I am successful. I work in one of the wealthiest publishing companies in Tokyo, I have my own office and I'm only twenty-four. I worked all through college to ensure my success, I quit sports and I stopped talking to my friends from high school. Most of them hated me for it, they called me selfish, that I cared too much for material things. That's hypocritical bullshit if I ever heard it. What person doesn't care about having nice things? What's the matter with trying to better your social situations? 

I watch out of my office window as Yahaba Shigeru closes his computer and stands. We are the only two left in the office and it's quite late. He walks over from his small cubical and knocks on my open door. "Oikawa, you need me to wait for you, so you don't have to go alone? It's pretty late, we can share a cab." 

Yahaba smiles, his light brown eyes look tired from working late and his hair is tousled like he needs a good night's sleep. I shake my head. "You go ahead, I going to walk home, it's not far." 

"You're going to walk home in this rain?" he asks furrowing his brow. 

I stand and close my laptop and put it in my bag. I shrug my coat on and pick up my umbrella from off of the floor. "I'll be fine, just get home to your family." 

"I live alone, Oikawa," he says blatantly. 

I scratch the back of my and chuckle. "Right, well, let's get home safe then." 

We walk to the elevator in silence and pass by the custodians that are starting to clean the floor. I have around twenty manuscripts to read and review before the end of the month and I'm not even halfway through the pile. Yahaba probably has it worse though. He is the personal assistant to Nobuteru Irihata, the CEO of the company and Yahaba has to constantly walk on eggshells if he wants to keep his boss happy. The elevator doors open and we step in. I push the button for the first floor. 

"What are you going to do this weekend?" Yahaba asks with a sigh. 

I shrug. "What else? I'm sorting through this workload, so Nobuteru doesn't skin me alive at the end of the month. I'm afraid I'm not very social, I like the work I do." 

"You never go out. I few of us from the office are going out if you want to come. It's tomorrow night." he explains. 

I nod. "Thank for the offer, but I'm good." 

Yahaba shakes his head. "You're so outgoing and confident around here. You could have anyone you want with your looks and yet you still would rather spend your tie cooped up in your tiny apartment that you should not be living in because you can afford a much nicer one." 

I roll my eyes. "Please, I go out and I date. I just don't do it with you lot. I like to keep work and personal separate. It's easier that way. Furthermore, there is nothing wrong with my apartment. I've lived there since I graduated college and if it's just me what the problem? I save more money this way." 

"At least tell me you'll think about going out tomorrow?" Yahaba asks. 

The elevator opens to the first floor and the security guards wave at us and look back down at the cameras. I nod at Yahaba. "Yeah, I'll think about it." 

Yahaba smiles and walks towards the front doors. He bids me farewell and gets in his cab. I open my umbrella and begin walking home. The lights of the street stores make the rain shine in several different colors and it almost starts to give me a headache. It's cold, I'm surprised the rain hasn't turned to ice in this weather. I can see my breath in the air and I shiver. I pull my coat closer to my body and continue to walk toward my apartment. 

In the city load noises aren't that out of the ordinary, even I scream or two. However, when I hear this scream not six feet away from me in an alleyway I am passing I pause. I don't know why, every cell in my body is telling me to run, to keep walking, and that it's probably nothing. It isn't nothing though, not when, out from the darkness of the alleyway I hear a cold laugh and when I hear the sound of a gunshot my legs stop working and I freeze. People won't think anything of it. Someone will call a report that they heard shots fired, but no one will know exactly where it came from. 

When I bloodied hand reaches out of the darkness, it grabs my coat collar and drags my limp body into the alleyway. I am thrown to the ground and only then do I register what is going on. I'm being mugged. 

I can only make out the reckless crimson eyes of a madman. I look up at him and my hands go cold when I feel an unresponsive body laying on the ground next to me. My hands are covered in their blood. I reach for their shoulder and turn them over. I gasp and pull my hands back when I stare into the dead eyes of Kirishima Hoshi, a young woman from my office. Her bottle blonde hair is soaked in rain and blood and fear is permanently stamped onto her face. I am about to be next. 

I hear the man with the red eye laugh again and he kneels down to face me. "Wallet, phone, bag. Now or your brains will be splattered across the concrete next." 

With shaking hands, I do as he says and he presses the gun to my forehead. "I can't let you live, you'll go running your mouth and getting me caught. What are the odds you're some well-to-do rich boy and I've made it big by stealing from you, huh? You look like a spoiled little bitch." 

I hold my hands up in fear. "Please, don't kill me." 

He chuckles. "A lot of good that will do. I probably won't even remember killing you, you're like everyone else. Blind and snobby looking down at everyone and everything." 

He clips me across the face with the gun and I feel blood fill my mouth and I spit out a molar. My heart has exploded inside my chest, that or it has jumped out of it completely and is laying on the bloody ground. I look up at the men, he has red hair to match his dark eyes. He points the gun at me. 

"Hey! Drop your weapon or I will shoot!" someone yells from the outside of the alleyway. 

The man snorts and lowers his gun. "Damn cop." 

He looks down. "You got lucky. You get to live an extra day." 

He shoves the gun into the waistband of his pants and takes off down the alleyway and disappears. 

I look back at the cop running towards me and he reholsters his weapon. He wears a white button-up shirt and a black windbreaker with a Tokyo Police label on it. He is slender with black hair and dark blue eyes. He looks unphased and rather annoyed at the entire situation. He kneels down to look at me. "Are you hurt?" 

I shake my head. My voice shakes. "He punched one of my teeth out, but I'm fine."

I look back to Kirishima and point to her. "I think she's dead though." 

The cop leans over and checks her pulse, he nods. "My name is Detective Akaashi Keji. I am going to call in back up and an ambulance for you. You've just witnessed a crime and I know you are frightened, but you have to be questioned. Alright?" 

I nod. He helps me to stand and he takes his phone out. Rain wets my hair, my umbrella is long gone. My hands are balled into fists so tight that my knuckles are white. I feel light headed and want nothing more than to lock myself in my apartment and to hide under my bed. I feel like a weak coward like there was nothing I could do to defend myself. I take a deep breath and watch Detective Akaashi make his calls.

I feel helpless and naked without my wallet or phone. He took everything except the clothes on my body and he killed someone I knew. I'm more pissed off and scared than anything at this point.   
      


	2. Two

I hate cops, I always have. They were never any help to me until tonight, but I still can't bring myself to be grateful. I am sitting in the back of an ambulance with a trauma blanket wrapped around my shoulders. They carted off Kirishima's body not long ago and I'm thankful they were at least competent enough to do that. Detective Akaashi said I would be questioned, but so far all that's happened is paramedic checking up on me and cops ignoring me. As soon as back up came Detective Akaashi was practically smothered to death by a bulky man with bad silver highlights. He yelled at Detective Akaashi for doing his job all alone at night. Detective Akaashi simply rolled his eyes and took it with a grain of salt. 

I shiver, my damp shirt sticking to me underneath the blanket. The rain has slowed to a quiet mist now, but the ice-cold air still won't let up. I watch as cops flood out of the alleyway, ducking under yellow caution tape. Bystanders look on, some annoyed by commotion so late at night and others intrigued. Detective Akaashi emerges with the silver-haired cop and they talk quietly as they approach the ambulance. 

"Mr. Oikawa, this is my partner Detective Bokuto. I told you-you would be questioned by the detective leading this case. From the looks of it, it's a homicide, you're lucky to be alive." he tells me. 

 Detective Bokuto nods. "Did you see anything that could have one hundred percent identified the perpetrator?" 

I open my mouth to answer, but I am interrupted when a third cop appears next to Detective Akaashi. "This is my case remember? Why don't you let me question him?" 

"Don't be an ass, Iwaizumi. You have a lot on your plate we were only trying to help." Detective Bokuto answers. 

I stare at Detective Iwaizumi dead on and I shake my head. I almost can't believe he is standing right in front of me. He hasn't changed at all in the last two years, although when I saw him last he was a rookie. He has dark brown hair that sticks out at all ends as if he has no clue what the definition of hair product is. He arches a brow at me and glares at me with his dark green eyes. He doesn't remember me. The man who put my father in prison

He puts a hand on his hip and glares at Detective Bokuto. "Just go somewhere else and let me question him." 

Detective Akaashi rolls his eyes and follows Bokuto back towards a group of other cops. Detective Iwaizumi sighs. "Sorry about them. They mean well, but it isn't their place. My name is Dect-"

"I know what your name is. Iwaiumi, right?" I ask annoyed. 

He narrows his eyes. "Have we met?" 

I shake my head. "Yes, a couple of years ago." 

He looks down at the notepad in his hand and mumbles my name. He stops moving and looks up. "Oikawa. I know an Oikawa, who are you?" 

I arch a brow. "You don't remember me? Think back Iwaizumi. Oikawa Reo is my father, you arrested him two years ago for drug abuse and manslaughter." 

His eyes widen in realization. "I see, but I still don't remember you." 

My jaw drops. "How could you forget me! I was so nice to you! I even gave you a nickname! I thought you were on our side when my father confessed to manslaughter and you didn't even stand up for him!" 

"Nickname?" he asks completely ignoring my outburst. He crosses his arms and thinks for a moment. 

"You're honestly still exactly the same, Iwa-chan," I tell him tightening my blanket around me. 

"You're the guy who shamelessly flirted with the entire jury?" he asks eyes widening in realization.

"You can't blame me for that I was trying to get my father out of a prison sentence," I tell him. 

He massages his temple. "They asked you to leave the courtroom." 

I roll my eyes. "Why are you here then? Aren't you going to question me?" 

Iwaizumi looks down at his notepad and sighs. He clicks his pen and flips through the pages. There is a slight pink tint in his cheeks that I would like to think came from me, but it's obviously the cold. He looks back up. "Where do you work?" 

"Nobuteru Publishing House. It's not even a block from here. The victim, she worked there too as a receptionist." I explain. 

He looks up. "You know her name then?" He continues to write on his notepad. 

I nod. "Her name was Kirishima Hoshi, but that's all I really know about her." 

"When did you leave your office?" he asks looking up. 

"Around ten fifteen. I left with a friend, but I decided to walk home. I was walking past the alleyway when I heard the scream and then the sound of a gun being shot." I tell him looking down at my hands. 

"You decided to intervene? You could've gotten yourself killed," he tells me sternly. 

I shake my head. "No, he grabbed me and dragged me into the alleyway. He took my wallet and my phone and my bag with all of my stuff in it." 

"You never resisted? Never shouted out that you were being mugged?" he asks his brows knitting together. 

I shake my head. "No, I froze up. I was scared he would shoot me if a resisted and then I saw Kirishima's body and it made things all the worse. I only saw part of his face though. I'm sure I could tell you exactly what he looked like." 

He stops writing and looks up. "You saw his face?" 

"Yes, most of it, but it was pretty dark," I say. 

"Describe him," he orders. 

"Uh, red hair, dark red eyes, maybe around six feet tall. He was young, possibly my age." I tell him. 

"Early twenties?" he asks.

I shake my head. "More like mid-twenties. Around twenty-four or twenty-five I would say." 

"Did he have any notable scars or tattoos? Was he right handed or left handed?" Iwaizumi asks his strong jaw fixed and his eyes focused on the task. 

"He held his gun in his right hand, and no I didn't notice any scars or tattoos. That's all I saw of him before he ran away." I say.

Iwaizumi nods and closes his notepad and tucks it into his pocket. "We will keep in touch," he takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to me, "call if you remember anything." 

I smirk. "Is Iwa-chan giving me his phone number?" 

"Don't get fresh with me, you were nearly killed tonight, take this a bit more seriously. You need to go home, do you live nearby I can give you a ride." he offers. 

I shake my head. "It's fine I can get to my apartment just fine." 

"Didn't you say he took your bag? Did your keys happen to be in your bag?" he asks. 

I close my eyes. "Eat shit Iwa-chan." 

"Don't blame me. I didn't mug you," he says. I can tell by the sound of his voice that he is fighting a smirk. 

I shake my head. This the worst night of my life. I just want to go home, but now some red-haired idiot with a gun is running around the city with my keys and now I can't get home. I open my eyes and Iwaizumi is holding his phone out to me. "Call whoever you need." 

"I only know my mom's number," I tell him. 

"Then call your mother, Shittykawa," he argues. 

"Mean Iwa-chan! If I call her and to tell her I was held at gunpoint she will freak the fuck out. Do you realize that?" I ask. 

"Then don't call her," he says plainly.  

"Where am I supposed to go then? I can't very sleep on the street." I tell him. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and take his phone from me and dials a phone number. It rings a few times before the person on the other line answers. 

"Daichi, I'm with a witness now. I need you to set up a hotel for him to stay at for a few days."

Iwaizumi lets Dachi yell at him for a moment and taps his foot on the wet ground. He looks at me every now and then but never quite pays any attention to me. 

"Yes, I know how late it is, I wouldn't be asking if it weren't important. Can you just do this please, it's for a case." He hangs up and puts his phone back in his pocket. 

"What am I suppose to do tomorrow?" I ask. 

"Someone from the precinct will come to pick you up and you'll have to come to the office. While you're there you can use the phones and the computer to turn your cards off and order a new cell phone," he tells me. 

I remove the trauma blanket and leave it in the van. I put my coat back on a stand. I massage my sore jaw. There is a gap in the back of my mouth where my tooth used to be. There will no doubt be a bruise in the morning. I step out of the ambulance and Iwaizumi puts his hands in his pockets. I walk across the street to where Iwaizumi's patrol car is. I open the passenger side door and climb in. The car is still warm from when he drove it last. I put my seatbelt on and wrap my coat around my torso. 

Iwaizumi starts the car and merges into the light traffic and we drive into the night. I only wish I could say this horrible experience was over with.  

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry, I meant to post sooner, but I have finals next week and things are kind of crazy right now. Anyways enjoy this extremely vanilla fanfic and my mediocre writing.

I sit at the foot of the bed and stare at the tacky art that hangs on the wall. The tacky art that is probably hanging in every room of this cheap hotel. Morning sunlight peeks through the blinds and I fall back onto the lumpy mattress. Iwaizumi's friend couldn't have found a more comfortable place to stay? I mean sure it was last minute, but this is kind of divey, even for cops. 

I stand and walk into the bathroom. I am still in the clothes I wore last night. My hair no doubt looks outrageous from when I accidentally fell asleep with it still wet after taking a shower. I look into the corroded mirror and wince and my less than attractive appearance. My eyes have dark circles under them and I look pale. My throat is dry and my head is full of mucus and I'm pretty sure I have a cold. I wash my face with the cheap hotel soap that makes my skin feel too tight and dry and I meander back into the bedroom to find my shoes. I am tieing them when I hear a knock on the door.      

I walk over and look through the peephole to see Iwaiumi and an unfamiliar face standing next to him. I roll my eyes, sigh and open the door. I put a hand on my hip and stare at them both. "Detective Iwa-chan, how can I help you?" 

The stranger with a stocky build and short dark hair raises an eyebrow at Iwaizumi. "Iwa-chan?"  

Iwaizumi shakes his head and ignores his curiosity. He looks up at me. "This is my partner Detective Daichi Sawamura, we are here to take you to the station. Get your coat." 

"You don't have to boss me around. You could show a little empathy I was attacked last night you know." I tell him crossing my arms. 

Iwa-chan and Daichi share the same look of annoyance and early morning irritability and I smirk. "Fine, I'll get my coat, you don't have to act so rudely though. No wonder why everyone hates cops." 

"Not everyone hates cops," Daichi says with a glimmer of hope behind his voice. 

"I hate cops," I say emerging from the bedroom, shrugging my coat on. I button it up and close the door behind me. I feel empty without all my things like I have no defense against the real world. Not that any of my things helped me last night. I just don't like having anywhere to put my hands. I decide on putting them in my pockets and looking down at my feet while I follow Iwaizumi and Daichi to their patrol car. "Great I have to sit in the back like some kind of criminal." 

Daichi laughs and wonders around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the car. I sit in the back behind Iwaizumi and slide down in the seat like a pouting child that wants to avoid being seen. Iwaizumi looks at me through the rearview mirror and rolls his eyes. "Who is going to see you?" 

"Mean Iwa-chan, it's a matter of pride. I don't want to be seen in the back of a cop car is all. Would you?" I ask. 

"Not really although, I have been in one before," he tells me starting the car. 

I lean forward, intrigued by his response. "You have? What were you some kind of ruthless criminal with latent detective abilities and you turned from your wicked ways to serve and protect?" 

Iwaizumi grumbles something under his breath. "Will saying yes shut you up?" 

I roll my eyes and sit back. I know the answer is no, but pestering the man who arrested my father is my own way of being especially petty. I look at Daichi who has been looking forward this entire time. "Detective Daichi. You're the one who got me this hotel last night, right? Thanks for not letting me sleep on the street." 

Daichi turns and smiles. "It's no trouble really, I was only bothered because Iwaizumi called me while I was off duty. Not all of us like to work outrageous work hours as he does." 

I nod. "I can't agree with you there. I work a bit too much too." 

"Speaking of which, your boss needs to be questioned. Anything he knew about Ms. Kirishima Hoshi will be useful. Anything would help." Iwaizumi states. 

I laugh. "Yeah, he won't know anything. In the past three years that I have worked there, he still doesn't know my name and my office is next to his. He won't know a receptionist who works in the cubical across the room from him." 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "No, I should call him anyway, he needs to be informed on the safety of his employees, even if he doesn't give a shit about them." 

Iwaizumi turns into the parking garage of the police station and parks close to the elevator. He gets out and opens the door for me and I smile. "So gentlemanly Iwa-chan, who said chivalry was dead?" 

"The door locks from the inside, shittykawa. You wouldn't have been able to get out unless I opened the door for you," he says dryly. 

I glare at him and follow Daichi to the elevator and he pushes the button that goes to the fourth floor. Iwaizumi is looking down at feet and sway back. His hands are in his pockets and his cheeks are pink from the cold. From this angle, his sharp jaw is defined and in profile, he looks like one of those people who are so attractive that they can't be real. I shake my head and chastise myself for thinking of him like someone to be admired. I shouldn't be mentally complementing the man who ruined my father's life. I suppose though, even the most hated people can be found attractive in a Stockholm syndrome kind of way.

Iwaizumi lifts his head and glares at me. "What are you staring at?" 

I shrug and plaster on a fake smirk. "Just trying to figure out why your cheeks are so red. You aren't blushing over me, are you Iwa-chan?" 

He rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself." 

The elevator doors open to a large office space, with rookie cops walking around and telephones ringing and people doing paperwork. I follow Iwaizumi out of the elevator and he and Daichi say something quietly to each other to which Iwaizumi punches him in the shoulder.  

Iwaizumi sits at his desk and I take the seat next to him quietly while he turns on his computer and takes off his coat. He wears a shoulder holster with his gun strapped safely into the holster. I take my eyes off the gun, uncomfortable with it for the obvious reason of having one pointed at my head the previous day. He looks tired, his shoulders look tense like he's been working non-stop for the past two years.  

He leans back in his chair and starts doing paperwork. I clear my throat. He looks up and points to his office phone. "Phone's right there. Do what you need to do and get out of my hair." 

I roll my eyes. "How am I supposed to know the number of my bank and cell phone company?" 

He puts his pen down, let's out a groan of annoyance, and opens one of his desk drawers. He throws a thick paperback book into my lap. I look down and laugh. "A phone book? What are you, eighty years old?" 

He doesn't look up from his desk. "You ask that, but you're the one who can't memorize anyone's damn phone number but your mother's. What are you, four years old?"

"That what my contacts are for, gosh," I say grumble flipping through the phone book to find the name of my bank. 

I cancel my cards and request new ones and I call my cell phone company and they offer to give me a discount on a new phone because mine got stolen. After that I look back and Iwaizumi who hasn't looked up once. His face is relaxed but shows obvious concentration. He's rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and his watch reads nine o'clock. I'm an hour late for work, though I doubted I was even going to go today, mostly due to my physical appearance.  

I pick up the phone and dial my mother's cell phone number, knowing she'll be cleaning her kitchen right now. It rings a few times before she picks up, light classical music is playing in the background because she likes to listen to it when she's cleaning. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Mom. It's Tooru. Don't freak out, I'm at the police station." I tell her ripping off the bandage. 

She audibly gasps. "You're where! What did you do? Did you get arrested?" 

I roll my eyes. "No, mom I didn't get arrested."

Iwaizumi looks up for a second fighting a smartass grin. My mother is on the other end of the phone freaking out. "What happened? Why are you there? You know I don't trust them, not after what they did to your father." 

"I know. I'm not in any kind of trouble, mom. Something happened last night, not dangerous, but I got locked out of my apartment and I need to use the key I gave you until I can get a new one made." I tell her. 

"Did you get robbed? Is that why you're there?" she asks calming down. 

"Yes, I'm here using the phones. Can you come and get me please?" I ask. 

I hear rustling around on her end like she's already walking out the door. "Yes, I'm coming. Which precinct are you at?" 

"The one close to my office. I don't know the address." I tell her. 

She sighs. "It's fine I know where that one is." 

I groan. "Mom, there is one more thing." 

"What is it?" she asks her voice lowering in concern. 

I brace myself for a second. "The cop that is over my case. His name is Detective Iwaizumi Hajime." 

"What!?" she screams. 

I flinch away from the phone as she begins screaming in my ear. "Ok I love you too mom, see you when you get here." I slam the phone down on the receiver and lean back in my chair. 

Iwaizumi is staring at me, one of his eyebrows are raised in confusion. "You're mother hates me too?" 

I rest my head on the desk. "Hate would not be a strong enough word for the amount of resentment she has towards you. You're the reason her beloved husband is in prison." 

"You think I wanted him to go to prison? It wasn't my choice," he says. 

I sit up. "No, but prison wasn't what he deserved. He has a problem and he would never intentionally kill someone." 

"He intentionally started using drugs though, that's why he had a problem," he says. 

I narrow my eyes. "Don't talk about my father like he's some villain. He is a good man and he is a good father. We all have problems, his problem was just an addiction that has cost him his freedom when what he really needed was professional medical help, despite the fact that he broke the law. Don't ever talk about my father like you knew his situation, you didn't live through what I did watching him ruin his life." 

Iwaizumi looks into my eyes for a moment and nods. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, you aren't really sorry. Anyways what's done is done and he only has three more years left before he gets out. My mom is saving up money to get him the care he needs even though she knows I can pay for easily. She likes to feel like she's helping." he says. 

"Why are you telling me all of this?" he asks. 

I shrug. "I don't really know. Maybe to make you feel guilty or maybe because no one really likes to hear me talk about my drug addict of a father, they don't like that I victimize him." 

He nods. "Well, I'm not saying I agree, but he's your father and you love him so it's natural you want to help him." 

I shake my head. "Bullshit." 

 

 


	4. Four

I knew my mother was clingy, but I never realized how overprotective she was up until now as I watch her scream at half the cop in the station for not contacting her sooner and allowing me to stay in a hotel. Iwaiumi is getting the worst of it and I've been letting him suffer out of sheer pettiness. He keeps on trying to calm her down, but my mother's been around cops enough to know that they don't give a fly fuck about us. 

I sigh and walk over to my mother and place a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, that's enough. I didn't call you last night on purpose because I knew you would freak out and I didn't feel like dealing with that last night. Let's just go." 

Mom glares at me for interrupting her but says nothing. I look at Iwaizumi who is standing, eyes wide at just receiving a tongue lashing from my mother about how he didn't know how to do his job. "What happens now?" 

He nods. "Resume your daily routine and we'll call you if anything happens and you call me if you remember anything. That's all really. When we catch the guy, we'll let you know." 

"That's it?" I ask slightly annoyed. 

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes Oikawa, I can figure things out at the drop of a hat. I've got other cases that need my attention too and these things have to wait," he explains. 

"Yes, I forget you're busy putting other innocent people in jail." I quip back. 

Iwaizumi says nothing but his jaw tenses up. He crosses his and moves to sit back at his desk. "See you around Mister Oikawa." 

What, he's being formal  _now_? I roll my eyes and turn to leave with mom who is fuming next to the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. "Mom, calm down, they didn't even do anything to me." 

She shakes her head, her perfectly wavy hair shakes with her. "No, I hate this place. I hate them and I won't be calm until we leave." 

We step into the elevator. "Don't you think you're being a bit overdramatic?" 

She slaps me in the arm. "You're asking me that question? You of all people?" 

I hold my hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying, mom. I don't like them either, but they didn't treat me terrible." 

Mom smirks. "That's because your a handsome young man, who hasn't done anything wrong, although I don't see how that makes a difference they'll lock up anyone these days."

I arch a brow. "As opposed to letting actual murderers run free?" 

The elevator doors open to the parking garage. We walk to her old ass car that's she had since I was in elementary school. "Mom, when are you going to get a new car?" 

She glares at me. "Oh I'm sorry, you're complaining about my car when I put you through college?" 

I get into the car she starts it pulling out of the parking space and driving towards the exit. When we are back out on the road she looks at me and sighs. "Why aren't you telling me what happened last night. I know it was more than a robbery or wouldn't have told me at all. I know you think it's hard for me to handle things because of your father, but I'm a bit more resilient than that, Tooru." 

I look out the window. "It's nothing mom, just don't worry about it. I wasn't hurt, so there's nothing to be considered about unless you count my pride. I've already gotten my stolen things replaced and Detective Iwaizumi is going to work to find who took my stuff." 

"You didn't see his face?" she asks practically reading my mind. 

"No, it was dark. He just grabbed my things and ran and I didn't want to run after him in fear that he would hurt me." I lie. 

She nods. "Yes, but how do they know who it was if you didn't see his face?" 

"I don't know mom, I guess they will use their special cop abilities and figure it out. I just want to go home now." I tell her leaning back onto the headrest. 

We drive in silence until we arrive at my apartment and she gives me my spare key. I narrow my eyes. "You don't want to come in?" 

She shakes her head. "No, you clearly want to be left alone right now and if you're not going to tell me the truth, I'd rather not bother it out of you. Go take a shower and fix your hair. Go to work tomorrow too, people will be wondering where you've been." 

I open the car door with the key in my hand and before I tell her goodbye she is driving away, clearly frustrated with me. I sigh and put my hands in my pocket and climb the stairs to my apartment. I unlock the door and take off my shoes as I enter. I put the key on the kitchen counter and take off my coat. I slowly make my way into my small living room and fall face first onto the old couch that I bought at a second-hand store my first year of college. I groan in exhaustion, but before I drift off into a much need nap I sit up and walk to my bathroom to take a shower. I have a headache and I'm pretty sure I have a fever too, but I'll take care of that after I've eaten. 

I shower quickly not bothering to fix my hair afterward as my mother requested. I make sure to build up a lot of steam to clear my head and I put on a grey sweatshirt and a pair of black jogging pants. I emerge from the bathroom and walk into my cluttered bedroom and sit on my bed as I put on a pair of socks. I fall onto my back and let my muscles relax. I would like nothing more than to simply crawl underneath my blankets and go back to sleep, but the growling in my stomach and headache from caffeine withdrawal convinces me to get back up. 

I enter the kitchen and rinse out the coffee pot and pour fresh water into the machine. After a put ground coffee in the filter a start it a lean on the counter top waiting for the pot to fill. I think about how I have to buy a new computer and how people at the office probably think I'm dead for not showing up for work today. The truth a rarely like to miss. Any day that I waste by laying around or going on vacations is a day I can use to get ahead in the workforce. Editing is hard work, especially when you have to deal with writers who refuse to any faster or refuse to take constructive criticism. Most of them are fairly nice and will listen, but there are occasionally people who refuse to change their vision, even if it costs them their success. 

I lift my head as my coffee maker beeps and I pour myself a cup, not bothering to put any cream or sugar in it. I sit on my couch and turn on my small TV to watch the afternoon news. This day is going to take forever to end. I have nothing to do and the work that I want to get done was in my bag that was stolen or is at the office. I could go to an internet cafe and work on some emails and edit work through there, but I don't have my wallet to pay and my new card won't come in until tomorrow. I roll my eyes at the over-articulate weather reporter and how she not so stealthily reads from a monitor off camera.  I take a sip of coffee and spend the rest of my day on the couch watching TV and pretending that despite the fact that everyone thinks I'm fine, I'm not. That the real reason, I have the TV on and the volume up so loud is because the dead silence of my apartment makes me feel as though I'm going to be attacked again. That it doesn't matter where I go, I'm not safe anymore. 


End file.
